Into the Night
by p y n q u e
Summary: Days are too long. Nights are a pleasurable blur. A kit's secret life begins to interfere with her life as a Jellicle, and she is forced to choose who she really is. But actually, she's not too sure herself. / abandoned, might rewrite it as a one-shot. that's still a possibility, so many years later.
1. Stage One

**Warnings: **_"Drug" use (catnip), sex (though vague), shittily named nightclubs, language, poorly thrown-together OCs. There are a few of them—one had "romance" to begin with, but is dumped later in the story… I didn't have any canon cats I could use, except for maybe Exotica, Admetus, and cats that people often use but don't really exist like Victor (who is Alonzo) and George. Perris is borderline John Doe/male Mary Sue. Forgive me._

**Notes: **_Jemima has a "fake name" in this. In the narration, I will always call her Jemima, but others will call her by her pseudonym. Also, this is highly unrealistic, but… the Jellicles are special. This is a prologue, so it's short.  


* * *

_

She drew in a shaky breath, wide eyes focusing on the back of her sister, Electra's head. It was far from her first time doing this, but she would never be able to sneak out without feeling nervous, vulnerable.

Electra was asleep. Perfect. With light, silent footsteps, she tiptoed out of the den, ever aware that someone could spot her any moment. Step one of the sneak-out was complete. Crisp, cool air filled the kitten's nostrils. The moon greeted her with faint light, further lowering any chances she had of hiding in the darkness.

All the kitten needed to do now was scurry out of the west entrance without being seen by Alonzo…Alonzo. It pained Jemima to know she was lying to him, but firstly, he was supposed to be with Cassandra, and secondly, it wasn't like anyone asked about her nightly escapades. Why would they? No one knew about them, not even Electra or Etcetera or Victoria.

Jemima looked back at the main clearing before stalking to another wing of the junkyard. She kept careful watch of the things above her and to the sides of her. No Alonzo, her father, or anyone else. Step two was nearing its end.

As Jemima passed the junkyard gates, a huge sigh filled her throat and passed her lips. Step three began there: run to the Warehouse as fast as possible. Ignore other cats, Pollicle, everyone. Just get to the Warehouse safely.

Jemima steeled herself, took a deep breath, and ran. Cold air caressed her fur, sinking into her flesh. She felt exhilarated. The feel of the pavement under her feet kept her going. An open-mouth smile crept on Jemima's face as the neon green and pink sign of the Warehouse approached. She could already smell the catnip; hear the deafening beats of the music.

There she was, standing before the large brick building that was the Warehouse. Various cats gathered around the side entrance, while unkempt, barely-legal humans hung around the front, adorned in ripped jeans and short skirts.

Jemima made her way to the entrance, turning on her sex appeal. She had worked hard to perfect it, combining Victoria's grace and Bombalurina's sensuality. She also threw in a bit of Etcetera's enthusiasm to liven it up a bit. She created a perfect, new personality. She had toms wrapped around her finger, best friends in the form of queens whose real names she didn't know. Secrecy and lies were a big part of the Warehouse's workings, but it was all in good fun.

A slender arm snaked around Jemima's waist. She closed her eyes, welcoming the contact. A switch went off in Jemima's head. Jemima was gone for the night, replaced by…

"Sillabub, baby," said the voice of a young tom. His breath hit Jemima's face, hot and steamy. Jemima smiled, resting her head in the crook of his neck and touching the tom's jaw line with her fingertips.

This tom, which she knew as Perris, could have very well been considered her mate. But most cats at the Warehouse found the term "mate" to be restraining and formal. They stuck with human terms like boyfriend and girlfriend—turned to tomfriend and queenfriend. Jemima-Sillabub was Perris's queenfriend.

Perris was a very handsome, sought-after tom. His was mostly white, with brown, tan, black, and orange spots. Perris adopted a spiked red collar, much resembling Jemima's own. What Jemima loved most about him wasn't that he was sexy, or popular, or a good dancer, but it was his eyes. His right eye was blue and his left was brown. She adored that.

Victoria thought she was special for having white fur. Jemima had seen at least three white cats at the Warehouse, but she hadn't seen any cats anywhere with two different color eyes.

"I missed you," Perris said, planting butterfly on Jemima's neck. His paw traced patterns up Jemima's side, causing her to shiver.

"Missed you too," Jemima cooed. Any cat that knew her as "Jemima," as opposed to "Sillabub," wouldn't have recognized her voice. She had changed everything about herself that she could, just for the warehouse.

"You guys gonna fuck out here or are you gonna party first?" came a queen's voice. Jemima's eyes, now with a sensuous glint to them, traveled slowly till they landed on a gold and brown queen with a white face—Tallulah. Tallulah had to be Jemima's best friend, above the kittens from the junkyard.

Jemima laughed as the queen—not much older than herself—sauntered over to the pair. "The night is young, my pretties," Tallulah stated, slender yellow eyes gleaming in the moonlight.

Jemima found herself between two toms, jumping and moving to the music. Any drama from the junkyard was gone now. The only things around her were the warm, colorful lights, repetitive sounds of house music, and cats she barely knew—when it got right down to it—but cared for deeply.

As the music changed, a paw rested on Jemima's shoulder. Over the music, she could hear Perris say her name—her assumed name, Sillabub.

Perris had that glint in his eyes and a smirk on his face. Lips slightly parted, Jemima nodded, taking Perris's paw.

The two cats maneuvered through the crowd, and before she knew it, Jemima and Perris were outside in the now chilly autumn air. The sky was black, the moon trying to shine through dark clouds.

Jemima breathed in through her mouth, then looked at Perris, who was watching her with pleasant eyes. "Let's make this quick," said Jemima exasperatedly, putting her paws on her hips. Perris cocked a brow, smirking.

"Oh, really?"

"You know I'm kidding," Jemima whispered, kissing Perris on the cheek. The tom smiled, taking Jemima by the paws and leading her behind the building.

Jemima ignored the faint music, the smell of catnip, and the faraway sounds of other cats. All that mattered was the feel of Perris against her, the heat, the passion. Jemima couldn't help the squeak that passed through her lips, earning a grin from Perris.

She ignored that they had been lucky so many times. She ignored the discovery of her secret life, the disproving looks Jennyanydots and Jellylorum would give her, and especially the way, Jemima knew, her parents wouldn't be able to look her in the eye.

Jemima closed her large eyes, sighing blissfully as Perris pulled away from her. She leaned against the wall, turning to watch as Perris rolled to sit next to her.

This was part of her daily routine, and a bigger part of her life. Wake up, be a Jellicle. Pretend to go to bed. Go to the Warehouse. Dance, party, have sex with Perris. Her life was perfect—and it would be even better if she got to be at the Warehouse all the time. She loved it.


	2. Stage Two

**Notes: **FINALLY, I'm updating something.

ItN was supposed to come after DL, but DL's chapters are expected to be longer (15-20 pages). ItN is, indeed, a side project, but it's chapters aren't/shouldn't be expected to be as long. So sorry? And, oh, I made a love… loop. Cassandra/Alonzo/Jemima/Mistoffelees/Perris/Tumblebrutus/Electra.

Who knows how it'll end… (I do!)

I imagine Electra as a tad bitchy, but responsible. So yeah. I don't write her much… And Tumble probably seems like a sissy. He's supposed to.

Let the games begin!

P.S. In this story, Mistoffelees is not a kitten. He's around Alonzo's age.

* * *

"Jemima! Get up!" Electra shouted, shaking the calico in a less-than-gentle way. Jemima opened her eyes slowly, the sunlight that poured into the room burning her eyes. She was, indeed, _hung-over. _She had been up later than usual, cleaning away any traces of Sillabub and the Warehouse. All she wanted to do now was sleep.

"Ten more minutes…" Jemima whined, turning away from Electra. Irritated, the tortoiseshell stripped her sister of the covers. Jemima curled up in a ball, trying to grasp any other trace of warmth. Winter certainly was approaching.

"Jemima, it's past _noon_—"

"What!" Jemima said, shooting of from the wad of pillows and covers. "Why didn't you tell me it was that late?"

"Because you were _sleeping_."

"Oh god," the black, white, and red kitten cried, dropping her head in her tiny paws. _Shit, shit, shit!_

"What's wrong?"

"I had a date with Tumblebrutus…" Jemima said quietly. She didn't dare look up at Electra. Though the older kitten would never say it, she had the world's biggest crush on Tumblebrutus. She knew, however, that her younger sister had him wrapped around her gentle fingers. (Why wouldn't he? She was pretty, sweet, calm, and had a great singing voice—unlike Electra, who was all sharp edges and bossy nothing very special.) Little did Electra know that Jemima—inadvertently or otherwise—was completely leading him on, what with her relationship with Alonzo and, though no one knew of it, her less than innocent relationship with Perris.

"When?" was Electra's response. Jemima looked up for a moment. Despite the plainness of her words, Jemima could see how hurt and angry Electra was. Hurt, because Tumblebrutus loved Jemima, and not her. Angry, because Jemima was so careless when it came to him. In Electra's eyes, it seemed like there were only two toms—sometimes, only two _cats_ in general—who mattered to Jemima.

"_Hours _ago."

"Hours? Please, Jemima. When did you plan to meet? Freaking _dawn_?"

"No—Electra…" Electra just gave her a look. A jealous, pained, and above all, disappointed look.

"Whatever. Go back to sleep. You can deal with Tumble yourself." The older kitten spat, standing up. Despite Jemima's weak protests, Electra left the den hastily, nearly tripping over a stray blanket. What was she going to do? The tiny cat pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew she didn't deserve any pity, or any help. Jemima had gotten into this herself. No matter how good she felt when she went to the Warehouse, afterwards, there was always some sort of mess to clean up (not _that _kind of mess, silly) or a mess just waiting to happen, like the one that she'd gotten into today.

Jemima could imagine what Tumblebrutus would say to her when she apologized. _It's okay! We'll hang out another time_, he'd say, a sad smile on his face. He would refuse to show Jemima that he was sad, but she would see it in his big gray eyes, sparkling with tears that he was completely and truly crushed. Then Jemima would smile at him, an apologetic little grin, and Tumblebrutus would think that she wouldn't let him down again, that maybe he really did deserve her. But then she would. A crazy night at the Warehouse and more sleeping in, accidentally standing Tumblebrutus up, or nearly missing a secret date with Alonzo (so what if he had Cassandra? Cassandra was his daytime girlfriend, when he wasn't on duty).

The tiny kitten gathered herself, prepared what she would say to Tumblebrutus. She knew he would be at the place they scheduled to meet—near the west entrance of the junkyard, by the weird pink dryer.

Her eyes felt heavy, her muscles like liquid. Her paw pads ached, feeling like thousands of tiny needles were pressing into them. Jemima wouldn't have been surprised if she puked.

-(&)-

"Tumble," Jemima called quietly, wandering through a secluded area of the junkyard. From the corner of her eye, Jemima could see the pink dryer. Spinning on her heel, she made her way towards it. No Tumble. A feeling of desperation rippled through her. She could smell him, very faintly. He left a while ago, she could tell.

_He must be in the main clearing, then. _Jemima thought, making her way back slowly. Her shoulders slouched and her feet dragged. A part of her wanted to stay with Tumblebrutus for a while—when she found him—and another part just wanted to get things over with and go to the Warehouse. But the Warehouse wasn't open yet.

When Jemima entered the main clearing, she first headed towards the other kittens, lazing about on the TSE1, where older cats could watch them be happy and young, and pretend they weren't jealous of the girls' youth. Electra spotted her first, giving a look of loathing and pity—but not pity for Jemima. Obviously, she knew something Jemima didn't.

Electra watched her sister with cold eyes as Jemima nearly greeted them. She was slightly amused when Jemima merely nodded at her, then walked away.

Electra found Tumblebrutus. Away from prying eyes, tears staining his cheeks. She wanted to hug him, tell him it was all right—but instead, she remained hidden. At that moment, Electra honestly found herself hating her sister. Of cours, she felt guilty afterwards and mentally apologized. She knew her issues with Jemima stemmed from pure jealously. Jealousy of her beautiful eyes, her petite build, her soprano voice, of Tumblebrutus's love for her. Electra was seethingly jealous of her. Yes, her friends were beautiful (in fact, all Jellicles seemed to be given the gift of beauty), but they weren't her _sisters_, they didn't remind her of it every day… and above all, their love toy (or lack thereof) wasn't Electra's object of affection.

What did Electra have? Nothing, that's what. She was flat as a board, her eyes were slender and mature, she was taller than most female kits her age (at least Victoria, Etcetera, and Jemima), and her singing was less than gorgeous. _Much _less. And her personality? Unlike Jemima, she wasn't sweet as cotton candy. In fact, Electra was sweet as toe jam.

At least she knew her faults.

-(&)-

This wasn't manly at all. It was pathetic. He wanted to smack himself, smack the tears right out of him. But it hurt so much. Tumblebrutus rocked, sobs worming their way up his throat and coming out like silent screams. A very wimpy squeak escaped the young tom's lips. It hurt so bad.

"Jemima…" he whispered as his cries weakened. What was he supposed to do? His friends would surely laugh at him. He had been stood up. Plato had never been stood up. Pouncival… well, he never really had "anything" with a queen before, except for a big—and slightly creepy—crush on Bombalurina. But he'd just ride on Plato's words.

The last thing Tumblebrutus wanted to do was return to the junkyard, he decided. He didn't want to see Plato. Or Pouncival. Or his sister, Etcetera. And most importantly, Jemima.

Was he angry with her? No, of course not. He was depressed _because of her_. It was simple as that. He just needed to take a nap, lay in the sun for a while (he decided against that, because the best place to get sun was the main clearing, and the sun wasn't very warm today). No—instead, he'd go to his owner's house. Disappear for a little while. Nodding to himself, Tumblebrutus sniffed a blob of mucus that had run down his nose. The young tom stood up, wiping his mouth with his forearm. He probably didn't look very attractive right now.

Tumblebrutus walked out of the junk yard, padding along the cold, frozen sidewalk. It would snow any day now. The shining sun would reflect on the pure white snow (but not as pure as Victoria) and blind him as he walked with his head hung low. He would bury himself, hide under the frigid snow until the cold seeped through his fur and froze his skin. Then he'd just lay there for a while, until the snow melted. But for today, there was no snow.

-(&)-

The day went by much too slowly. Jemima couldn't find Tumblebrutus, Electra didn't speak to her, and Alonzo was not to be found. He was probably off with Cassandra (but Jemima knew she liked Mistoffelees). Jemima was ready to curl up into a ball and just _lay there_, until the sun began to set. The calico stifled a joyous scream as shades of dark blue streaked across the sky, bright stars and stealthy dark clouds following. Lighting and quiet thunder in the distance told Jemima it would rain. She had never been to the Warehouse in the rain. (She hoped they'd simply dance outside.)

A strong arm snaked around Jemima's waist. She didn't know who it was—but the touch was affectionate, so it was either Tumblebrutus, Perris, or Alonzo. Tumblebrutus was no where to be found and Perris wasn't a Jellicle. So it was Alonzo. Jemima was surprised to find that she wasn't completely excited. She was simply depressed.

"Hey, Jemima," Alonzo's deep voice rang out, as her turned Jemima to face him. Hastily, she put on an expression of airheaded joy. It didn't sit that well with Alonzo, honestly—Jemima didn't show mixed emotions, and on this occasion, she was. "…Is something up?" he asked, frowning.

"No, of course not!" Jemima said, mentally wincing at the slight squeak in her voice. Maybe she could pretend she had a sore throat?

"You sure?"

"Of course," stated Jemima, wrapping her arms around Alonzo (unfortunately, because of her small stature, she had to stand on her tiptoes). She smiled, and the patched tom beamed back, his lean arms firm around her waist. _If Tumblebrutus saw us, _Jemima thought, _he'd be crushed._

"Well then… would you like to go on a little date?"

"I'd love to," the tiny calico said quietly, trying to lift herself up more so she could kiss him. Noticing her struggle, Alonzo chuckled (_his laugh is like bells_) and craned his neck downwards so their lips could meet. The kiss was quick, sweet—and an assurance that Alonzo was Jemima's. If only Jemima could say that she was his.

-(&)-

She never found Tumblebrutus. However, that was the furthest thing from Jemima's mind as she tiptoed out of her den, into the cold, wind, and icy rain. The rain made her fur cling uncomfortably, but she didn't care. Running in the rain, Jemima found, was thrilling, invigorating. The harsh, near-winter air froze her to her core, the rain making sure she was alive. The sidewalk was slick, like she would slip any second now. Her mind was completely empty, except for quiet thoughts of, _I hope Perris is there._ He would be, Jemima knew, but wishing it made her feel better.

Pink lips curled up in a smile as neon lights, blurred by diagonally falling rain, came into view. She was almost there. Soon, her night would begin. And then it would end, and she'd have to be a Jellicle again.

The kitten's pace slowed to a walk, as a very big question filled her head. Who is she during the bridge to Jemima and Sillabub? Is Sillabub merely a mask, covering up innocent Jemima with nip and sex? Or is she really _Jemima, _the tiny cat?

_Am I Jemima or Sillabub?

* * *

_

Okay… so I'm trying new(er) pairings. At least, I'm writing pairings that I usually don't read about (Like Cassandra/Mistoffelees and Jemima/Tumblebrutus).

I cut this chapter short. I'm sorry. I _really _wanted to get that last line out there.

I'm thinking I might do short chapters, but update fastlike.

Before you go, I need a queen to eventually go to the Warehouse with Jemima… and her assumed name. Because I'm lazy. I'll dedicate a chapter to you or something.


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